


The Smallest of Gestures

by then00breturns1101



Series: The Heart is Hard to Translate [1]
Category: HLVRAI- FANDOM, Half-Life
Genre: Angst, Autistic Benrey (Half-Life), Canon-typical discussions of violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Semiverbal Character, They/Them Pronouns for Benrey (Half-Life), benrey is semiverbal, gratuitous use of black mesa sweet voice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29300883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/then00breturns1101/pseuds/then00breturns1101
Summary: How. How did it get to this point? Why him? Why now?Gordon paced frantically around his room, mind abuzz, as he ran the events of the past ten minutes back through his head.He had opened the door.The last person he expected to see had been on the other side.And then, they promptly passed the fuck out on his living room floor, leaving him to drag them onto the couch and figure out what to do next.
Relationships: Benrey & Gordon Freeman, Benrey/Gordon Freeman
Series: The Heart is Hard to Translate [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152068
Comments: 20
Kudos: 154





	The Smallest of Gestures

**Author's Note:**

> first published HLVRAI fic! wahoo  
> warning for implied self-injurious behavior during a panic attack. it's not big, but just in case.

_How. How did it get to this point? Why him? Why now?_

Gordon paced frantically around his room, mind abuzz, as he ran the events of the past ten minutes back through his head.

It had been—and still was—raining. He had been in his room with headphones on to avoid the noise of a possible thunderstorm. Despite the headphones, he had still heard knocking at the door.

He had opened the door.

The last person he expected to see had been on the other side.

And then, they promptly passed the fuck out on his living room floor, leaving him to drag them onto the couch and figure out what to do next.

What to do with _Benrey_ next. Because, fuck, of course they were back. They never stayed dead before, why would they now? Then again, they had never… passed out before, either. And they had never gone this long without coming back.

Gordon stopped in his tracks at the realization that he had been anticipating Benrey’s return. It felt absurd to acknowledge that fact, but… sure enough, he had just assumed it would happen eventually. Not to mention all the talks he had with Tommy on the subject.

Had he voiced this belief to the rest of the science team? Nope.

Was he going to need to because Benrey had just reappeared out of nowhere? _Apparently._

His train of thought was interrupted by a thud and a loud, monotone ringing from the living room.

Ah.

Benrey must be awake, then. _Lovely._

Gordon took a few moments to collect and compose himself. _Okay. Don’t freak out. Yelling will not be helpful—it never had been with Benrey, or anyone really, so it probably won’t start being helpful now._

A few more deep breaths. A hand on the door. He could do this.

Gordon pushed his bedroom door open and stepped out into the hall, walking into the living room to find a disoriented, vaguely person-sized lump tangled in a blanket on the rug next to the couch.

Said lump, poking their head out and revealing themselves to be Benrey, turned towards him. Their eyes were wide, reflecting discs of light like a cat, and Gordon couldn’t suppress a startled jump.

“…Uh,” they began, smacking their lips as they thought of something to say. “Hey.”

“Benrey,” Gordon said, in a disbelieving whisper.

“Yep,” they replied, still contorted in a blanket knot on the ground. It did not look remotely comfortable. Despite this, they made no effort to move. “That’s… my name.”

“No—yeah, I know it’s your _name,_ man, I just—I really didn’t expect you to just fucking show up at my house and pass out.”

“Yyyyeah, I’m uh, I’m not supposed to leave you alone. Remember?” They started untangling the blanket, still keeping it wrapped mostly around their shoulders. “Gotta—gotta follow you and make sure you don’t… steal anything.”

“I don’t—you—why would I steal from my _own house,_ man?” Gordon dragged his hand down his face with a groan. “Why’d you come here, anyways? I don’t—why not Tommy’s place?”

Benrey paused for a moment, blinking a couple times. Gordon was about to repeat his question when they finally spoke again.

“I dunno.”

“What—” Gordon sputtered, “what do you mean you _dunno_?”

“I mean I don’t know! I just showed up here, bro, not like I picked it.”

“So you—you died, man. We killed you. You were dead, and gone, for like, weeks!”

“Yeah, I’ve died a lot. Uh. Not an issue, you know? I’m not human.”

“…Right. Right. Yeah! Of course!” he threw his hands up in exasperation. “You can’t die, so you respawn at _my_ house, of all places. Perfect. Fucking perfect.”

He turned around, pacing around the living room as Benrey’s slitted pupils followed his every move. It was fucking disconcerting. He was pretty sure he saw an extra pair blink into existence every couple seconds, but he wasn’t sure—his mind was still occupied with what the hell he was going to do now.

Maybe he should call Tommy? Tommy would probably know what to do; he seemed to get along better with Benrey than the rest of the science team did. He’d probably pick them up and get them off Gordon’s hands if he asked.

From behind him, Gordon heard a quiet mumble from Benrey. He turned around, patience running thinner than he could handle.

“What was that? What did you say?”

“I said your arm grew back kinda weird,” Benrey replied in a flat tone, as if it weren’t the most bizarre thing they could possibly have said in that moment. Gordon followed their gaze down to his right hand—or rather, to the prosthetic attached where his right hand _used_ to be.

The hand that Benrey helped get _cut off._

Gordon saw red.

“What—what the fuck are you _talking_ about? This? You mean this?” He raised his prosthetic hand and waved it around.

“Yeah man,” said Benrey, still in that infuriating monotone. “Looks weird. It’s not the same as your other hand.”

“Yeah, no _shit_ it doesn’t!” Gordon yelled. “It’s a fucking prosthetic! It’s not my hand anymore, my hand is fucking _gone,_ you got it cut off by the military!”

“Whuh?”

“You—” he pulled the prosthetic off his arm, separating it completely and held it out in his left hand. “It’s not my hand anymore! I had to get a prosthetic—I lost my hand _permanently!_ Limbs don’t fucking grow back, Benrey!”

The silence was heavy with Gordon’s words, only the sound of drumming rain outside to fill it. When he looked back at Benrey’s face, their eyes were completely fixed on his stump, pupils nothing but thin lines.

“They don’t—” Gordon’s breath left him in a nervous laugh. “You’ve got to—you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You thought they grew back, didn’t you? You thought I could just _grow my fucking arm back?_ ”

The quiet was deafening. Benrey stayed frozen in place. As Gordon watched them, he noticed the blanket stretching in their white-knuckled grip.

“Don’t—don’t rip the fucking blanket, man, what—are you not gonna say anything? Respond?” he asked as he reattached the hand. Fuck, it was too late for this. He was exhausted and rapidly running out of steam. Getting to the point where he was too tired to be angry.

By the looks of it, Benrey hadn’t picked up on that yet. When he finally opened his mouth, the silence was broken by a couple dull orbs of green and black sweet voice. Gordon just sighed.

“I can’t—I can’t understand the weird color balls. I’m not Tommy. Gotta use words.”

Benrey glanced up at his face for a split second before his gaze turned towards the floor.

“…Yeah,” they mumbled.

“So you _did_ just think my arm would grow back.”

Benrey nodded mutely. Gordon sighed again, and it turned into a quiet, humorless laugh.

“You know what? I’m not even surprised at this point. You’re—you’re not human, you can’t get hurt, you can’t die, you do all this—all this weird terrifying shit, of course you can regrow your limbs. Okay. Yeah. Sure. That’s not even the weirdest fucking thing I’ve seen.”

“Got the… ultra regen.”

“Right, yeah, I—look, I’m just gonna call Tommy in the morning, okay? I don’t have the energy to deal with your shit right now.” With that, Gordon turned around and walked back into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to lock it, too.

He still didn’t get any sleep that night.

* * *

Neither did Benrey. They were unconscious before, but they couldn’t figure out how to do it on purpose like everyone else did. Probably because they weren’t human. Then again, neither was Tommy, and he seemed to sleep just fine, but Tommy was good at pretty much everything.

Everyone was. Bubby was smart, Coomer was strong, Tommy was really nice, and Gordon—well, he was kind of an asshole, but he had one huge thing going for him other than his nice hair.

He was really, _really_ tough for being the flimsiest, most breakable one in the group.

And he’d been broken.

The realization that the damage had been _permanent_ had shaken Benrey. It wasn’t supposed to happen at all, the boot boys were just supposed to knock him out, but even then—Benrey hadn’t realized just how fucked up it had been.

Well, it certainly put things in perspective. No wonder Gordon had been so angry afterwards. Angry and scared.

Benrey had felt angry before. It was almost comforting in its familiarity, in the way it offered a shield to protect themself from hurt and vulnerability. Fear, though, fear was more novel.

They didn’t like it at all.

But worst was this… this weird, cold, painful, clawing sensation that they’d started feeling in their chest ever since they woke up. It was like that time when they were crushed by the door, but only on the inside. And they weren’t bleeding everywhere this time—they’d checked.

Whatever the weird shit was, it would be nice if it could leave. It made his eyes sting and his throat feel tight and his chest ache. Not cool. Not… not fun.

It would probably be easier if they could just go to sleep and speed up until… until something happened. Maybe they could ask Feetman where Tommy was. They missed Tommy.

What would Tommy tell them to do?

* * *

Gordon came back out of his bedroom once it was a semi-reasonable time for a human being to be awake, walking past the living room and only casting a cursory glance at the couch to check if Benrey was still there.

They were.

He wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved, disappointed, or frustrated that they were still there, under the blanket in the same spot he left them. Well, at least it didn’t look like they destroyed anything. It was too early to ask for more than that at this point.

Coffee first. Maybe breakfast. Then—then he could get some information. And maybe call Tommy. How early did Tommy usually wake up? He was a morning person. Yeah. Okay, coffee first, then information, then call Tommy. Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool. He had a plan.

That plan had to be altered when he realized, belatedly, that he was out of coffee. He had meant to buy some the day before and completely forgot.

Okay. _Great._

He downed a glass of water to at least get _something_ in him and then headed back to the couch. The Benrey-shaped blanket lump on it left no room for him to sit, so he just stood beside it and nudged them.

“Hey man, you asleep?” he asked, voice at a reasonable, but not particularly quiet, volume. “We gotta talk.”

Benrey poked their head—still wearing the helmet, that couldn’t be comfortable, could it?—out of the blanket, pushing themself into a sitting position. They blinked and looked around blearily before their gaze settled on Gordon’s general vicinity.

“Mm?” Benrey grunted. Gordon took a breath. Right. This was going to take some patience.

“I said,” he repeated, “we gotta talk. You just showed up at my house, out of nowhere, and I want an explanation.”

Gordon gesticulated as he spoke, from having his hands on his face to pointing at the door to crossing his arms in front of his chest. Benrey’s eyes, watching like a hawk, were only focused on one hand.

One prosthetic hand.

Gordon didn’t miss how their pupils narrowed and their lips pressed together almost imperceptibly. Benrey’s face was usually pretty damn impassive. It was subtle, but it was clearly _something._

“What?” he asked, still not getting a concrete response. “What is it? You—” Gordon moved his right hand to the side and saw Benrey’s eyes tracking it. Ah. This again. He sighed.

“I thought—I thought we already established it didn’t grow back. I’m just a regular human. We can’t regrow limbs. It’s fucking _gone_.”

Benrey nodded, but their expression didn’t improve. If anything, it just got more spaced out. They had a faraway look in their eyes and their hands gripped their arms through the blanket, claws piercing the fabric.

It was a few seconds later when Gordon realized they were trembling, their lips parting slightly to take shallow, panting breaths, muddied sweet voice beaming out intermittently.

Gordon didn’t know sweet voice anywhere near as well as Tommy did. He couldn’t remember all the colors and rhymes and meanings, despite Tommy’s attempts to teach them. But it didn’t take an expert to figure that the dark green, brown, and jet-black orbs quickly covering the floor and fading into the carpet probably didn’t mean anything good.

Of course, as alien as Benrey was, they had enough similarities to humans to still be readable. And right now, their wide eyes, hyperventilating, and trembling were seeming all too familiar to Gordon—and as pissed off as he was with them, he wasn’t just going to stand there and watch them suffer a panic attack.

He knelt in front of the couch, getting at eye level with them, and tentatively placed his flesh hand on theirs.

“Hey man,” Gordon said, his voice soft and even, “you gotta breathe, okay? You’re panicking. It’ll pass. Think you can breathe while I count?”

He could barely make out a stiff, jerky nod as Benrey’s eyes squeezed shut. Gordon tapped their hand with his thumb and started counting.

“Okay. In, two, three, four, five; out, two, three, four, five. In, two, three, four, five,” he recited, punctuating each count with another tap of his thumb on their knuckles, “out, two, three, four, five.”

It probably took about fifteen rounds of counting before Benrey was breathing evenly again and they’d released their death grip on their arms. There were holes punched in the fabric, but Gordon didn’t pay them much mind.

“Okay. You alright now?” he asked, receiving a nod in response. “Good.”

Benrey opened their eyes and nodded again. Gordon got up with a groan—fuck, he needed to exercise more, that killed his knees—and pulled his hand back. Benrey still looked like a wreck. Whatever answers he wanted, he probably wasn’t getting them now.

Deciding to do the sensible thing for once, he walked into the kitchen and came back with a cup of water.

“Here,” he said, pressing it into Benrey’s hands. “I don’t—I mean, I dunno if you need hydration and stuff, but… can’t hurt.”

They nodded and chugged the whole thing at an alarming speed without any complaints.

By the time they set down the empty cup again, Benrey was looking a lot more… _there._ Their breathing was steady, their eyes were clear, and their pupils weren’t those razor-thin lines they were before. This time, they were a bit wider, more of the yellow iris being obscured as they turned back towards Gordon.

They mumbled something and Gordon frowned.

“Sorry, I didn’t—can you speak up a bit?”

“Why’d you do that?” Benrey repeated, still just barely audible. When Gordon didn’t seem to get what they were saying, they picked up the cup and handed it to him.

“Why’d I… bring you water?”

“Mhm,” they nodded. “’n’ the… counting.”

“Oh, that…” Gordon sucked in a breath through his teeth and rubbed the back of his neck. “You looked like you were having a fucking panic attack, man. I was just… that’s something you can do to, uh, to calm someone down.”

Benrey nodded absently, as if they still didn’t understand but didn’t want to push the subject. When they didn’t say anything more, Gordon continued speaking.

“I still… I still need some answers though. How’d you even get to my house?”

Benrey shrugged and made a noncommittal “mmm” noise. Very helpful.

“Okay, well, where were you before you got here?”

Benrey blinked a few times and Gordon watched as their pupils started to narrow again, darting to and fro.

“I ‘unno, bro, shhhhit was dark and I was… waiting for the regen after—” their voice cut off with a whine and a long stream of chalky, off-white sweet voice. When they tried again, there was the same result—no words, just uncomfortable sounds and a few more dull balls.

Their breaths started to quicken when they tried for the third time, and Gordon stepped in before they could spiral into another panic attack.

“Words aren’t working right now?” he asked, and Benrey nodded. Alright. That made things more complicated, sure, but he could deal with it for now. He had his share of experience. Words weren’t always friendly.

“Okay, I’ll just ask yes or no questions, and you can nod or shake your head,” Gordon said. When Benrey nodded, he kept going.

“Do you know where the rest of the science team is?”

_Shake._

“Does anyone else know you’re here?”

_Shrug._

“Do you remember everything that happened in—back in Black Mesa? On Xen?”

_Nod._

“Are you going to fight us again?”

Benrey’s hands gripped the blanket again as they shook their head. Gordon wasn’t sure if he believed them.

“Right. I’m gonna call Tommy. You wait here.”

_Nod._

Gordon walked back into his bedroom, leaving Benrey alone on the couch once more.

* * *

Benrey tapped their helmet absentmindedly, trying to collect themself again. Yikes. They’d really gone and had a… a panic attack in front of Feetman. That was… not great. Sucks.

They whistled out another low tone of copper brown sweet voice and leaned back against the couch. From behind the door, they could hear words being spoken.

“Hey, Tommy?” said Gordon, his voice muffled but still audible through the door. “Uh, so, something kinda… happened.”

There was a pause before he continued.

“Yeah, uh, Benrey’s… Benrey’s back. They showed up and passed out in my house last night.” There was another pause—probably Tommy talking as Gordon waited to respond.

“No, they're awake now, that’s, uh. I don’t—they can’t stay here, man, I can’t—can’t you take them? You two are friends, right? Kinda?”

There was the sound of footsteps as Gordon paced across the hardwood floor of his bedroom.

“What—oh. Right. Yeah. He’s… not a fan of Benrey, huh? And… yeah, I figured Bubby and Coomer wouldn’t be a good idea, either.”

Benrey tugged the blanket tighter. Shit. They couldn’t go to Tommy’s?

“…Look, I… I dunno if I can—the shit that happened back there is still—it’s still got me fucked up, man! I mean, they betrayed us, I lost my hand because of them, I…”

Pause. The silence was achingly heavy as Benrey strained to listen.

“…Yeah,” Gordon went on, quieter than before. “Yeah. I know. Brings back bad memories, you know? I mean—at least _Bubby_ apologized.”

Benrey’s thoughts turned back to the present as they tuned out the conversation happening over the phone. So Gordon didn’t… want them here, and neither did anyone else. But… apparently Bubby had apologized. Which, yeah, that made sense—Benrey had to talk Bubby into it in the first place—and explained why everyone was buddy-buddy with him again by the end.

Hm. Buddy-buddy. Buddy-Bubby. Bubby-buddy. Bubby-Bubby. Bubbuddy. The words all mashed together in their head.

Benrey quietly mumbled buddy-Bubby-buddy nonsense to themself as the gears turned. Right. Apology. Apologies were always the first step in epic redemption arcs. If they didn’t wanna be the badguy anymore, they had to…

They had to admit they did bad things. And hurt people.

“This suckssss,” they whined as they tugged the blanket over their head. Why was the first step to being good to just say they were _bad_? That made no sense. It felt bad. It felt bad to… be bad.

But they’d have to say it. It probably felt worse for Gordon when they cut off his hand. Benrey gripped their arm as they tried to push down the panic again. Nope. Not—not doing that twice. Did not need a second run. One was enough please and thank you.

They just had to say some words. Easy. Benrey said words all the time. Just had to pick the right ones and put them in order.

“…Sucks for your arm, bro,” they tried, immediately grimacing. Nope. “I, uh… bbbbb. Sorry.”

Okay. Now this was getting somewhere.

“Sorry ‘bout your, uh, your hand,” they mumbled. Perfect. Perfect, first step, checkmark and crossed off the list. “They… weren’t supposed to… do that.” Okay. Step two. Nice. “I, uh… I’m sorry.”

…Maybe the third step could use some work. One more run through and they’d be ready to—

“Benrey?”

“BBBBB”

They yanked the blanket off their head and turned around, almost falling off the couch. Shit, they hadn’t even noticed Gordon leave his room.

“I, uh… I talked to Tommy,” he began, tactfully ignoring the way Benrey had jumped like a startled cat. “He said you can’t stay at his place, so… uh, so I guess you can stay here for now.”

Oh.

That wasn’t what they were expecting. They honestly thought he’d just tell them to leave or something. Okay. Right. Uh.

He was looking at them. Right. Time to say words, time to put the training to the test, just like the simulations, _here we go_.

“I, uh, I’m—” another muddy brown sweet voice bubble interrupted them, and they waved it away. Fuck. Words. Right. Time to say them… _now._

“I’msorryaboutyourarm,” said Benrey, the words all tumbling out of their mouth at once. Gordon blinked.

“What? I—uh, slow down, I didn’t get a word of that.”

Fuck. They were gonna have to say it again? Really? Slow ass Gordon Feetman couldn’t speedrun the words?

“I, uh… I said I’m…” they chewed their lip for a moment. Just _spit it out._ “I’m sorry.”

Gordon was silent. Benrey looked up at him, at his flat and unreadable expression, and felt themself start to panic again.

“I’m sorry,” they repeated, turning their eyes back to the rug on the floor. “I—they—I didn’t—they weren’t supposed to do that. To cut your hand off. And I… I didn’t know it was that, uh, that permanent. And I was the big bad, got all, all scary and big and—and hurt you and the others and…”

Benrey’s voice trailed off, choked by the overflowing bubbles of green, black, and brown sweet voice from before. They clamped their mouth shut again and sat still. Looking up to see Gordon’s reaction would be too much. They didn’t want to know.

Unfortunately, Gordon had a voice and intended to use it.

“You’re… apologizing?” he asked, disbelief in his tone. Benrey nodded. “And you’re serious? You’re not fucking with me, not lying? Not gonna just start attacking as soon as I let my guard down again?”

Benrey nodded again, vehemently. “Promise, bro, pinky swear. I don’t… I don’t wanna be bad, bro. It’s not fun anymore. It’s sucks, it hurts. I’m… I’m tired,” they sighed. “I’m just tired.”

The silence hung in the air as the dim sweet voice faded, one glowing orb at a time. Finally, Gordon broke it.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” he began, and Benrey felt their blood run cold. “I’m… I mean, I’m still not—not anywhere _near_ okay. It all fucked me up bad. But… thanks for apologizing.”

Benrey looked up, shock blowing their pupils out wide. Gordon looked away and rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke again.

“It means a lot.”

**Author's Note:**

> _Dark green to jet means deep regret_   
>  _Brown like silt means full of guilt_   
>  _Tan to black is a panic attack_   
>  _Copper like wires means I'm tired_   
>  _White like chalk means I can't talk_
> 
> was this terribly self-indulgent? absolutely
> 
> will i write more? maybe!
> 
> please leave a comment if you liked it and/or want to see more, they really help me :>


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